


Dirty Dancing

by Fanfic_Parkour_Master



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Abed doing things for troy, Dancing, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e14 Interpretive Dancing, Post-Episode: s05e05 Geothermal Escapism, Reunions, also, i just want them to be happy and in love ok, inspired by that scene at the end of interpretive dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_Parkour_Master/pseuds/Fanfic_Parkour_Master
Summary: When Abed was seven, his mother had taken him to some mother-son classes to learn Polish folk dancing in hopes of teaching him more about his ancestors' cultures.And so, Abed’s long history and innate talent with athleticism began.He resolutely did not mention this to Troy, and to a lesser degree, Britta, when they insisted that the Study Group come to a beginners dance class that was being held at Greendale.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Dirty Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially apart of a different piece I was working on, but I got carried away by the dancing section and decided to just make it it's own thing.
> 
> I now fully headcanon that Abed is a really good dancer and has been dancing since he was a kid.
> 
> Enjoy :)

When Abed was seven, his mother had taken him to some mother-son classes to learn Polish folk dancing in hopes of teaching him more about his ancestors' cultures and in retaliation, his father signed him up for Dabke dancing classes, insisting that he also remember the importance of the other aspects of his culture, and that such knowledge was important for all young Palenstinians. He was pretty sure he had never seen his father dance in his life and heavily doubted that he knew how to dance a Dabke. He said as much and got sent to his room.

After that stint of his parents fighting and competing through him was over, his mum signed him up for tap dancing lessons. When his dad complained that it was too much money, she insisted that it would help his brain functions, citing some random article. She stressed that dancing was supposed to benefit mathematical skills, something Abed was greatly lacking, even at such a young age.

And so, Abed’s long history and innate talent with athleticism began.

He resolutely did not mention this to Troy, and to a lesser degree, Britta, when they insisted that the Study Group come to a beginners dance class that was being held at Greendale.

Britta was obviously doing it so that she could not so subtly lord over all of them that she was better at something than the rest of them. Troy, however, was doing it to own something he had hidden about himself for so long and to actively take pride in that fact by assisting his friends and introducing them to something he loved. At least, that’s what Abed deduced from the look in Troy’s eyes when he had begged them all to come.

Eventually, everyone was cajoled into agreeing with an exception of Shirley who had gotten out with the excuse of her kids needing her.

Abed found himself at a crossroad. He could admit to Troy that he was a prolifically talented dancer who, after his mum had left and stopped funding his lessons, had saved up and continued his dancing education in multiple genres, primarily tap, simply because he enjoyed it and it made him feel closer to her now that she was well and truly gone from his life.

Or, he could stay quiet and not let that look of satisfaction and pride in Troy’s eyes fade. Troy had always relished in looking after those he loved, particularly Abed, and he deserved to be better than the rest of them at something.

Although they were closer now, Abed worried that if he confessed that he didn’t need these classes and their assistance (didn’t need  _ Troy’s _ assistance, and his arms wrapped guidingly around Abed’s taller, leaner body), that Troy would grow frustrated and maybe even angry with him, like after their athletic competition.

So, much like then, he kept quiet and restrained himself, purposefully tripping over his own feet for effect.

-

That beginners dance class inspired him and so Abed scoured the Greendale itinerary for dance classes that wouldn’t make him cross paths with Britta or Troy.

He ended up applying for an advanced dance class that he qualified for after his extensive experience.

He was excited, but he wasn’t sure of how he was going to tell Troy, but he knew he couldn’t lie because friends don’t lie.

Just as he was about to sneak out of the apartment without being detected, Troy exited the bathroom, yawning.

As soon as he saw Abed, he perked up, “Hey, buddy! Whatcha doing?” Abed exhaled heavily through his nose. Looks like his luck was out.

“I have a class.” He looked away skittishly.

“This early? Is this a new class you took up for the semester?” He walked closer and Abed panicked. The other abruptly stopped when he saw the plain black flexible fabric stretched over his chest underneath his usual brightly coloured sweater. Fabric that was familiar to Troy by now.

“I’m doing… Advanced Dancing for Long Time Performers.” Damn Greendale for having such specific courses.

Troy’s expression changed in some fundamental way, Abed was sure of it, but he was still smiling, so he couldn’t have been that mad, right?

“You dance? But-But the beginners dance class?” His voice was getting pitchy and he was no longer smiling.

“I’ve been dancing since I was seven. I’m sorry if you think I lied to you, but I never  _ said _ I didn’t dance. I suppose it was a lie by omission since I purposefully didn’t tell you and I actively pretended to be bad, but I didn’t want to disappoint or upstage you. You seemed happy and I thought you might be mad at me like when we were doing those athletic competitions so you could prove you were better than me so your ego didn’t get bruised. I didn’t want to bruise your ego. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, Troy, but I really should be going if I want to make my class on time.” He wet his lips and checked the time quickly, desperately looking between the time, the door, and Troy who was staring at him blankly.

“Oh…” Troy’s expressionless expression didn’t change; didn’t become anymore readable.

“Are you mad at me? That’s okay, I broke the rule.”

“No, it’s okay, I just am a bit upset, a bit frustrated; Dancing was supposed to be my thing now, now that I’m okay with other people knowing about it.” Troy looked down and Abed felt his chest squirm.

He bit his lip and thought back to a night a few weeks ago.

-

Sitting on their respective recliners, Troy and Abed shared giggles as they watched reruns of Inspector Spacetime.

They had pushed their chairs together and were only lit by the TV in front of them.

Abed had been doing a bit, his voice lilting into a British accent as he imitated the leading man on the screen in front of him; “Come on ol’ chap, where would I be about with my companion, eh?” He squinted one eye and twisted his mouth into a rakish grin as he waited for the other to respond.

Instead, the smile on Troy’s lips crumbled and he looked down, his mouth screwed up.

Abed kept waiting for him to respond, the character he had surrounded himself with slipping away much like Troy’s amusement.

“Troy? Did I do something wrong?” He asked in a hushed voice, his hands now folded in his lap.

“No, it’s just…” He cuts himself off, visibly blinking away his tears, “Sometimes I don’t want to be the companion, y’know…” He mumbled, picking his nails. “I love being your Constable Reggie, but in everything, you’re always the-the main character, and I just-Listen! I know it’s selfish okay, but I just wonder sometimes…”

Abed dutifully didn’t point out that Troy always played Kickpuncher in their recreations of that particular franchise, understanding that it would not be a comment that would be conducive to conversation and would just upset Troy even more. Troy would be proud of his restraint.

He instead considered his friend's words and considered the possibility that, amidst the excitement of someone playing along with him,  _ he _ had been the selfish one. It happened often; he would forget to factor in other people’s reactions.

So, he tentatively placed his hand on Troy’s upper arm, their favorite show now playing mindlessly in front of them. “It’s okay, Troy, you’re right; You should get to be the lead too. We can try it out tomorrow, and we can work it into our repertoire. Just not Inspector Spacetime. I like you being my Reggie…” He paused to think, “But, I suppose if you  _ really _ wanted to play the Inspector, we could also try that sometime. Only if you  _ really really _ want to though.”

He must have said something right because Troy turned his head up to him, his eyes still slightly watery, but his mouth once again stretched into a jaw aching grin. “Thanks, Abed. Don’t worry though, I’ll always be your Reggie, you never need to worry about that.”

-

Abed snapped out of his flashback and saw Troy still dejectedly staring at the ground.

Was he being selfish right now? His motives were justified, and, ultimately, any audience would be sympathetic and understanding if he were to go through with the lessons, but…

Troy really wanted this. It was a way for him to be different, to be better at something than the rest of the Study Group. Better at something than  _ him _ .

If Troy really wanted this, then Abed would give it to him.

Troy was always so selfless when it came to Abed, who was constantly demanding, having no reservations with taking exactly what he wanted, even if that sometimes put those closest to him in awkward and/or upsetting positions.

If it were anyone else, he would already be out the door.

But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Troy. So;

“Okay. I won’t go. Don’t worry about it, Troy.” He smiled at him, and even though the sentiment stung slightly, he found that making the decision wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be.

Abed hoped that one day he would be able to dance again, and that Troy would be able to come watch him perform, but until then, Abed was satisfied with the grin the other gave him as he pulled him back into the apartment and shut the door behind him.

-

A couple of years later, Abed would find himself faced with bright and overwhelming lights, plain black flexible fabric stretched over his chest, his hands held purposefully in front of him. 

At the hint of the first notes of the song, he would bloom outwards like a flower.

He would perform his dance, the one he choreographed himself, with a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

His mother, his father, the save Greendale committee, they would all be in the audience and sweat would drip down the back of his neck.

He would perform his dance, the one he choreographed himself, for his lost friend, reminiscent and longing, dedicated to the man who was the reason he hadn’t danced in so long. Dedicated to the man who taught him selflessness for the sake of another who you loved more than whatever you gave up for them.

And when he would climb off of the stage, barely out of breath, walk towards his family and friends (though really, what was the difference at this point). He would let his mother wrap him in one of his brightly coloured sweaters over the top of his leotard and would kiss her head goodbye because her son’s babysitter had to leave early. He would let everyone pat him on the back and would watch as they all gasped.

He would turn and see the man for whom his dance was for. The man who was never meant to see the dance because he had said he wouldn’t dance while he was around because it had been  _ his _ thing.

He would turn and would be confronted by a bouquet of curling yellow flowers of all variety.

He would, for the first time in 2 and a half years, see the bashful face of Troy Barnes poking out, framed by a bouquet of yellow flowers and he would stop breathing for the 6.7 seconds it took for the other to speak.

“Wow, maybe dancing can be your thing too.”


End file.
